


a pound of flesh

by reddleston (redskiez)



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Artistic style of writing, M/M, Other, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redskiez/pseuds/reddleston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i hear your voices in the winds that cut the night.<br/>and i pray to whatever's listening that things'll be alright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a pound of flesh

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by "a pound of flesh" by radical face, the same artist behind "welcome home", the song you hear in canon advertisements.

          _Loki._  


  
Thor has long since given up trying to call for his brother into the endless stretch of blue, hoping that one impossible day that he would answer with a call of his own name. He wondered aimlessly, though not as without direction as he thought he would. Sometimes he woke up knowing where to go, yet not recalling how he knew that would be the right direction. The more he walked, the more he felt he was reaching his destination, despite not knowing where that was exactly.

 

          He just had to trust himself, his gut feeling, he supposed.

 

          The sky blanked over him, heavy and suffocating as he wondered again if he would ever find him. Thor didn’t dare give up hope, though. He thought it would be unwise to give up. Real warriors never surrender. Taking deep breathes that filled his lungs with fire and inflate into determination, Thor trudged on, his feet plowing the ground beneath as Mjölnir rested beside his hip, fastened there by his belt.

 

          How long has he been walking, again? Thor did not recall, but surely it had been quite a while. His belly felt empty as it should for not having a proper meal in a long time. His entire body ached with a soreness that he had never felt in centuries. It weighed heavy with more than just fatigue. His desperation to just have what he once had and overlooked easily outweighed the physical tiredness.

 

          It made it easier to carry on his chest, pressing down on him like a pound of flesh. Sometimes he would remember when he was young, carrying his younger brother back to the nursery when he fell asleep playing outside. There was almost a stabbing pain resonating deep within his chest and he almost choked at the replay of memory that remained distant and fuzzy.

 

          The truth that seemed so fictional. His own little fantasy that he abandoned when he thought Loki had picked up different interests and refused to bond with him anymore. From that day on, when he tried to distant himself from his beloved brother caused a wedge between his soul and created a scale.

 

          It never tipped, not even now.

 

          Thor knew he was wrong. He should have been able to try and talk to his brother, bring him back from the obvious wall he was attempting to build and shower him with his affection again. Yet he did not. He became boisterous and arrogant. Eventually, he let himself believe that he was better. He did as his father told and trained, as Loki remained in his shadows and sparked in his own way. The sinful green flashes that should have struck awe within him only caused him to revert to the minds that surround him.

 

          _Ergi._  


  
He was wrong. His brother was powerful and he knew it. Both of them. Loki would never hesitate but Thor always wanted to think he was still stronger so that he could _protect_  them, even though Loki didn’t need any. He wanted to. Thor failed to tell the difference between want and need and he let it bleed into another thing entirely.

 

          He was a bad, bad brother.

 

          There was another voice within his mind that played, accompanied by a face that was filled with such worry it tore the fabric within him. Frigga told him not to go. Odin, of course, remained silent. But his wife did not — his wife insisted that she did not want to lose another son when she just lost one.

 

          Thor should have stayed. But contrary to what he had learned on Midgard and what others believed he had learned in the land of mortals, Thor was still not as wise. He never was, truly.

 

          A cascade of rainbow rained on him and Thor looked up at the darkening sky, the gradient of blue to shadow carrying a frown to him. He lowered his gaze to the ground, watching as the shadows of the trees stretch and elongate. A huff left Thor’s lips and he looked around, doing his best to find some shelter in the rapidly fading glow.

 

          With the last of the warm rays dismissing from his back, Thor entered the cave and was immediately cloaked within the coolness of it. Thor suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the sudden chill. Quickly, he set down Mjölnir and his flimsy traveling back that he had hastily packed against the wall of the cave, the rough texture giving him no comfort.

 

          Finding firewood was easier than he thought. It had rained earlier so he had expected them to be soaked, but they were not. Dried and perfect. Sparking the first flame was even easier. There was somehow no wind entering the cave opening.

 

          But then it did.

 

          At first, it was a howl, the typical kind. Until the howling grew and twisted, shifting into something that seemed to be intangible, though something deep within him was able to reach out and touch. At first, it was cold, then, warmth. Warm wind? How strange.

 

          Then there was a voice. It was soft, unlike that he usually hears from his brother. The disembodied voice came from beside his ear though Thor knew it was not possible because he was pressed against the wall of the cave, trying his best to huddle closer to the flames and still rest his aching body at the same time.

 

          A touch on the back of his hand. It brought him to a more proper sitting position. Thor looked around, eyebrows furrowed. The dark tugged at his eyes and he was sure he was just imagining things. It happens when one was too desperate, right?

 

          He knew for a fact that he was not as desperate for the throne as he was as desperate for the return of his brother.

 

          But there it was again.

 

          “ _Thor_.”

 

          Without a doubt, that was the voice of his brother. Softer, without the menace that usually rested within that, was sure to guard Loki himself against harm. His voice was carried in the wind that cut the night, certainly over a distance to result in its breathless echo. Thor swallowed deeply, his saliva almost clinging to the sides of his throat and choking him with its thickness.

 

          “Norns…” Thor said underneath his breath. The rest of his sentence was left unsaid. He had no need for a prayer. But his mind reeled with the sentences that could have been uttered.

 

          _Things’ll be all right._  


 

          _He is fine._  


_He will be alright._

_…Please._

  
There was a faint sound. A rhythmic thrumming that could be heard, beating against his eardrum. Normally it thought it annoying, yet this one seemed familiar and comforting. _A literal heartbeat._  Thor’s gaze went blank, unfocused and staring into the universe as he recalled.

 

          They used to cuddle. Loki had a fear of thunderstorms as a young child and he would slip under the covers of Thor’s bed, even though Thor had not been sleeping in the nursery for quite a while. When the sheets rustled and something had touched him, Thor had woken up to the face of little Loki, his little brother. Though the face had not been relaxed — crunched up in fear and illuminated the horror by lightning when thunder had clashed outside Thor’s window — Thor had stilled enjoyed it.

 

          Loki had not complained when Thor had wrapped his arms around his brother’s tiny body. They had hugged until they had fallen asleep. There had been that rhythmic beating that Thor had heard within his dreams also, where his brother had been beside him and the area around him not lit by the shrill ghostly blue glow of lightning.

  
There was no way his prayers were answered but yet when he looked up from the cave floor that he had no idea he was observing, there Loki stood.

 

          It was so surreal that he thought he was surely dreaming, or at least, it was some kind of illusion he had created from wanting so much. Thor swallowed again, hoping that he was fine as he raised to his feet. Loki’s eyes followed him.

 

          Those green, green eyes. So green it rivaled the colors of the healthiest tree in the summertime.

 

          _Loki._  


  
“Brother,” Loki responded, and only then did Thor realize he had spoken it aloud.

 

          Thor wanted to say so much, yet he found no words that he could begin to utter. He stepped forward, but Loki stepped back with each step he took. So Thor just stood still, and that in turn, stilled Loki.

 

          “I… I thought you dead,” Thor admitted.

 

          “Then why are you out here, looking for me? Such contradicting thoughts and decisions, brother of mine,” Loki sneered. Thor had not missed that yet he still wanted more. It was the Loki he knew though it was also the Loki he could have prevented if he just paid more attention.

 

          “I don’t know,” Thor admitted, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his arms crossing and uncrossing in an act of nerves. This Loki seemed to bring something uneasy into the air and it crawled down Thor’s throat, clutching his lungs and heart so tight it made it hard for Thor to even think. “I hoped you would still be out there like the entire thing is one of your silly tricks again.”

 

          Loki hummed. “Silly tricks,” he repeated, but it didn’t seem to contribute to the conversation they were having. “What if I was dead? Would you have still continued on until you’ve walked all eternal land? What if Asgard needs your protection, or the Allfather cannot stand it anymore and succumbs to Odinsleep?”

 

          Thor thought swallowing was becoming a habit. “I had not thought of that.”

 

          Loki tsk’d him. “How unthoughtful. That is your father, is it not?”

 

          “Why are you here now? Why not show yourself earlier?” Thor changed the subject. He remembered Loki claiming he was not an Odinson. That he was a Frost Giant and had no place in Asgard — though still craved the acceptance and approval of the Allfather that he thought he never received.

 

          “I thought it was fun to see you prancing around and following what I planted within the depths of your mind,” Loki chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Thor. The blonde had begun to pace toward him without even realizing it, and Loki thought the risk was worth it to let him near. His eyes narrowed.

 

          The expression was familiar. Thor knew it. Loki put it on when he pretended to know everything, pretended to have planned for every single solution to a situation when in reality things were not exactly as he thought they would go. Little changes here and there and the result became drastically different than what Loki thought it would mold into.

 

          Thor could still hear the sound of Loki’s feet at the palace as he ran. Ran from what, Thor could never tell. But it was always different. But then the halls remained silent and Thor’s mind merely played the audio over and over again in a feeble attempt to bring back something familiar to him.

 

          After the fall, Thor knew Loki would not be coming back. But knowing that doesn’t mean he would stop waiting for him to return. Just one day.

 

          His one day came.

 

          Thor reached out, saying no more. When his fingers neared the pale skin of his brother’s neck, he thought it surely would slip into the illusion and result in him clutching nothing but air, then his brother’s shape would turn into a wave of green and into empty space.

 

          But his fingers touched the pulse and he could feel it from the tips of his fingers. His brother was as solid as the head of Mjölnir. Though he had originally anticipated Loki to disappear, so he misjudged the strength he had put into his reach. If Loki truly had been an illusion cast from somewhere far away, Thor would have flung himself to the floor of the cave with the amount of power he placed within the reach. But now, it tossed the two of them to the ground.

 

          Loki yelped but did not fight back when Thor landed clumsily atop him, pressing him down and making it truly hard to breathe.

 

          “Loki,” Thor whispered, staring down at his brother with such sadness in his blue eyes it drowned out everything else Loki could feel. “Please come home.”

 

          Loki frowned. He shifted but he cannot move from underneath Thor’s mass. Instead, he wheezed out. “Hold me down, Thor. Hold me up to the fire, but don’t you dare hold me back.”

 

          The fire Thor built gave a chuckle, snapping toward them and showering them in a warmth that seems to seep in between Thor’s bones and plant a seed that kept growing and keeping him warmer and warmer.

 

          The god of thunder was not given a chance to respond when a pair of lips pressed against his. It was soft, a gentle nudging that almost seemed _shy_. Thor once again thought this was fantasy. It was a strange thought he had when he was a child, wondering if Loki’s lips were soft as they glowed underneath the light of the sun back in Asgard where they still thought they were brothers.

 

          Sometimes he would brush his thumb against them to wipe a stain, though not often. His brother was not a messy eater as Thor was. Feeling the lips underneath his thumb gave him thrill — and it was, actually, soft.

 

          Thor treasured those little forbidden moments until Loki drifted. Sometimes Loki would drift back, and then away. But, perhaps, it was Thor. When Loki never came back — or when Thor stopped trying to chase his brother and play with his little games — Thor just thought Loki realized their actions could never end well, or that he just lost interest and moved on. So Thor did too, he tried to surround himself with something else. With everything else.

 

          The nudge of lips against his only brought back those locked up memories and desires that burned and danced along with the fire beside them, glowing brighter and brighter as more fuel was fed within those licking flames that hunger for more.

 

          From a kiss gave birth to something more than either of them could handle, and they let it flood over them as a wave from their ocean of emotions, clashing against the stones of their hearts until they fall and break apart.

 

          _Crack._  The fire still snapped. Its tendrils flickered and reached out toward the ceiling of the cave, disappearing when it reached too far up. Sparks left the body of flames and drifted about, floating along with the infinite amount of stars within their galaxy and helped carry a wish that was too far-fetched to be completed realistically.

 

          Eventually, the tiny ball of flame drifted apart and toward the floor of the cave, resting until it burned out everything it could, as a dream would. Then it vanished, cooling down rapidly. The wish died.

 

          The fire still snapped. It crackled and ticked when it wanted, doing as it pleased. It flickered when wind brushed against its translucent body. It was a wicked dance that enchanted everything around it.

 

          Then the wind got violent. A harsh blow caused the flame to be snuffed out, floating toward deeper within the cave as it breathed its final breath of oxygen and dissipated. All that was left was a burnt pile of ashen wood, weaves of smoke still sifting from the burnt area and snaked toward freedom.

 

          The clouds outside the cave were light and thin. The black canvas was blank save for specks of stars that rest on top, scattered seemingly in random positions, bouncing against one another as they carry the wishes of young and old, the dreams of those who were once innocent and loved.

 

          Those once-cotton white wisps stained gray with darkness that scar the night twisted and turned until they were in a random shape that struck within Thor to be the face of Loki.

 

          ...

 

          Birds were singing. Asgard was glowing underneath the warm embrace of Sól, passing through the heavens to count the years for man.

 

          Thor shifted and found his bare skin brushing up against the softness of his sheets. There was a feeling he held that made him feel better than before. He felt easy. Well-rested, without a worry or a decision to make as he had to before. He had nowhere to go and nothing to look for. What he had was returned and what he needed to do was completed.

 

          His heart was at ease and he found himself on the more familiar roads with friends and companions that shift from their original ranks into something more intimate or distant.

 

          When none of this was done, there was a darkness that wrapped inside him, but now it wasn’t so hard to let it all go.

 

          A candle stood within the window of his heart and kept him warm with the feeling of constant comfort and home.

 

          Thor turned and stared at the face of Loki, still peacefully relaxed in the land of dreams. He reached out his hand and brushed his finger against Loki’s cheek, feeling his cheekbones. His fingers sifted through the long, almost glowing strands of his not-brother’s black hair.

 

          _They were almost home._  


_Loki._

**Author's Note:**

> just trying something new, and yes, they had sex.


End file.
